Seriously, how hard is it to leave a guy alone during this season?
My mother once explained the meaning of Christmas to me as “the time of year that everyone has off of work.” Not the most romantic answer, then again, my question was stated cynically: “Why is this time of year such a big fucking deal to people?” After all, how can I have spirit this time of year when most Christmas Miracles are brought to you by Macys?
Among the great many things I loathe about this season:
- Children around the holidays: not only are they out of school, but they’re also ramped up on sugar and the prospect of acquiring an absurd amount of undeserved gifts.
- Some adults during the holidays. Especially ones who are bent on creating a Picture-Perfect, Rockwell-meets-Crocker holiday scene in their living room.
- 98% of all Christmas movies.
- Pumpkin-spiced anything.
- Santa Claus. Seriously. What and why?
- The fevered consumerism, of course. What does it say about our economy if most stores have to rely on the greed of others and our constant desire to feel included and accepted in order to make their financial year worthwhile?
- Carolers. And pretty much all holiday music. Including any band/singer/group who has the nerve to publish a holiday album.
As a kid my family would take me on seasonal car rides through neighborhoods we would never afford to live in to see the elaborate, carefully planned lighting displays that migrant workers had assembled for the homeowners. I sat in the car, looking through the window, bundled up in all the cold weather gear I owned, feeling the blast of the car’s heater on my face, slowly getting sick from the winding roads.
At the age of 11 my family bought their Colorado home, where they still currently live, and I started to loathe the season even more. Sure, I appreciated the gluttonous overture of probably-undeserved gifts. However, I was at that age where my parents wanted me to scramble around the unfinshed crawl-space of an attic to pull out the dozens of boxes containing Christmas decorations. Only to have to put them all back in the attic not one month later.
The house we lived in was also structurally devoid of all exterior electrical outlets on the front side of the house – rendering the lights we had to light our house in Texas totally useless. Now we were the house on the block that wasn’t going to have Christmas lights! Officially crushing my 11 year old spirit.
However, in the spirit of things, I felt I should reconsider the least-offensive thing about the season – the lights. The other evening as I looked out my front door I saw my neighbor hanging up a few strings of his holiday lights. At first I rolled my eyes, giving my usual amount of grief to the holiday season. But, later, as the sun went down and the lights were more notable I could see that they offered a tasteful illumination of his porch, door, and windows. His house, usually very pleasing, was very nice to look at. Especially since all of the trees had gone dormant and lost their leaves and his yard had turned to the gray brown matter of the season.
Resolution achieved! I liked holiday lights! I could actually like something about the season! For an afternoon, and then someone had to go screw it all up.
Immediately next door to the tactful neighbor was the exact opposite of appealing holiday lighting. This particular neighbor allowed yard after yard of flashing bulbs criss-cross his yard while a half dozen illuminated inflatables stood tall. And there was music. His yard sings “Joy To the World” on a nearly continuous loop for seven hours, every night. My dog even hates it. She sits at the window and barks at the display nightly.
And it’s not like the City and County of Denver has done much better with their display. It is as if their elaborate celebration of every color on the spectrum is a comment on their latent racism. Even when I’m lit up, I can’t stand to look at it!
What else is there to do but bite the bullet? Drink something alcoholic and pepperminty (which is only a slight bit more tolerable than pumpkin) and hope that the bleakness of January shows up a little bit faster. Hope that maybe I don’t feel too guilty about not buying gifts which will inevitably go into next summer’s garage sales.
Also, this:
Holy fuck. I thought I disliked all that false Christmas bullshit, but you get the lollipop, mate! I’m going into retirement safe in the knowledge you’ve taken over from me!